


Collar

by mustachio



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Collars, F/M, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut, Sub Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: On the last night of Chanukah, your true love gave to you... a collar. So you decide to test it out. Just, maybe, not in the way he was expecting.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	Collar

**Author's Note:**

> So the Loki trailer dropped on the first night of Chanukah and gifted us Jews with Loki wearing a collar. Naturally, this meant I had to write about Loki in a collar because sub!Loki is my absolute jam. I am a little late, though. I wanted to get this posted yesterday because it was the last night of Chanukah and Loki's birthday, but oh well.

Loki Laufeyson looks _good_ in a collar.

 _Like, criminally good,_ you think, walking circles around him. You trail your index finger along the top edge of the collar as you go. 

He shivers.

Loki kneels on the plush grey carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread wide to give you the best possible view. His pants are unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He's not wearing underwear tonight, you discovered when you first started this game, and so the head of his cock peeks out from the open waistband. His hands are restrained behind his back. His shirt never made it to the bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he says when you finish your circle and take your place in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "And you'll continue to wait until I've decided what to do with you."

"You are a cruel mistress," he shakes his head, but the cheeky grin on his face betrays his somber tone.

You pull the golden leash toward you; Loki falls forward with it, his face nicely cushioned by the area between your thighs. You run a hand through his hair and take advantage of the places where your fingers snag in his curls by pulling his head back so that he is looking straight up at you. Even in this position, defiance colors every inch of him. His shoulders are set back, his spine straight. The set of his jaw is stiff, giving his smile a distinctly sinister look.

You lick your lips.

"If you didn't want me to be cruel, you shouldn't have gotten me a collar for Chanukah."

"Ah, but you were meant to be the one wearing it," he nuzzles his cheek against you. 

"But you look so good in it, Mischief. How could I resist?" You kneel down to kiss him, laughing as you catch his grinning lips with yours. Your content to stay like that, sharing breathy laughs with each other while your mouths move against one another. But Loki is not content in one position for very long so when he starts grinding himself against your leg, give a sharp nip to his lip. "Be good for me, please?" 

" _Goodness_ is not in my nature."

"Well then, maybe I should break out the strap. Deprive your cock of any fun tonight." You run your finger along the collar again, then press your thumb to his Adam's apple just above it.

His tongue drags a slow trail along his lips.

"Oh, please do _deprive_ me," he says in a tone that lets you know he wouldn't actually consider the strap a deprivation at all.

"Right," you roll your eyes. You glance at the bed behind Loki, looking for inspiration. How to make the God of Mischief behave… "Maybe I should just tie you to the bedpost while I get myself off."

A hiss catches your attention. Loki's teeth are bared now and he's glaring.

 _Hit the nail right on the head_ , you think.

You make your way over to the bed, twirling the leash around your finger as you go. The knot you tie the leash into around the post is loose; it's definitely something Loki could undo with little to no effort on his part. But it gets your threat across all the same. You perch on the side of the bed closest to him. One of your hands slips under the waistband of your shorts. You're wet already; the sight of Loki at your mercy ensured that much. Your fingers slip inside your folds easily; an exaggerated moan drives home the idea of what Loki will be missing if he doesn't agree to be good.

He growls.

For a moment, your touch lingers on your clit. You rub slow, gentle circles over it, careful not to work yourself up too much; despite your teasing you weren't going to keep Loki from all the fun. You twist your hand so your thumb continues to press at your clit while you sink two fingers into yourself. 

It isn't enough. You grind into your hand, trying to get the same fulfillment from your own touch as you would from Loki. Lower lip caught between your teeth, you groan in frustration. 

"You only torment yourself by keeping me tied," he said through gritted teeth. It was a commendable show of restraint that he didn't just break out of his restraints; one you thought you might have rewarded if the game wasn't so amusing. 

"Maybe I like torment."

He snorts, "I reiterate: you should be the one in the collar."

"Hush, you," you stick your tongue out at him. It's a decidedly unsexy thing to do. You take your hand out of your shorts and stick your fingers out to him. 

Loki takes your fingers into his mouth without question. His gaze burns into yours as his tongue swirls around your digits; he is a man dying of thirst presented with a cool glass of water. When he's gotten all he can from your fingers, he pulls back, teeth dragging across your skin. It makes you feel powerful, even if you have no idea what to do with the power.

"Undress me. No hands," you leave your perch on the bed so that you can hook a finger underneath his collar. You pull his head up; eyes on you. "No magic, either. Just your mouth."

"Is that all?" He asks. Anticipation leaves his breaths heavy; an open mouthed smirk adorns his lips as he tries to keep it under control. The effect is entirely indecent. 

Is it too late to give up the game and just let him fuck you?

"It's a start."

In his enthusiasm, Loki manages to get some skin when he latches on to the fabric of your shorts. It stings in the best way, amplifying the want flowing through your body and the drag of his nose as his mouth reveals more of your skin. He abandons your shorts when he reaches your center. He breathes your scent in and presses his nose to your clit, nuzzling. 

You suck in a breath. The game dictates that you reprimand him for acting without permission. You don't want to. Instead you pull on his collar to bring him closer, to invite more of his willfulness.

He complies, most eagerly. 

Loki's tongue delves deep, reaching places no one else had ever bothered to find. And while he is eager about what he's doing, he makes sure to go slow; to savor every last drop his mouth can find. To torture you. And you're pretty sure he's trying to torture you for even suggesting that he wouldn't get to touch you. 

"Fuck, Loki," you moan, gripping his hair tight in your hand. 

"Yes, fucking is the goal here," he laughs against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core. 

You buck into his mouth. You need _more_ and your body is reaching the limits of its patience. So you push him away and, startled, he falls on his ass. Despite your growing impatience, you do take a moment to admire the sight of him. His face is coated with your wetness, a mark of his passion for the taste of you. The collar and matching leash sparkle in the room's lights and his arms remain restrained behind his back - all evidence of his trust and willing submission to you.

With his hands restrained, he's no help in getting his pants off. You don't bother trying to get them off all the way. Shoving them halfway down his thighs is enough that his cock is fully free. And with his pants out of the way, you straddle him in one breath and only leave the space of one more before you bury his cock into your heat. You tug on his arms.

"Touch me," you demand.

Obediently, he frees his arms of the spell he'd used to restrain them. He runs his hands over your thighs, up your hips and waist, and then retraces that path back down. He touches you everywhere he can reach, memorizing each bump and blemish and stretch of skin that you offer to him. He tangles a hand in your hair, uses the grip to pull you down for a kiss; the fact his face is still covered in your juices is no deterrent for him. He wants you to taste what he does to you, wants to remind you that although he is the only one wearing a collar tonight, you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you.

"Shall we take this to the bed?" He asks. But he doesn't give you the chance to to answer before he's moving the two of you off the floor. 

You don't even really manage to follow how he does it. All you know is that one moment the two of you are on the floor and the next your back is hitting the mattress while Loki looms above you.

"I thought I was supposed to be in charge?" You wrap your legs around his waist.

He nuzzles your neck, "Always, my queen. So much so that you needn't use words for me to know what you desire of me."

"Silvertongue," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

All talking stops when he kisses you, open mouthed, and sliding that silvertongue of his against your own. He lines himself up with your entrance, once more burying himself inside of you. It feels like he's come home to you, always; no matter how many times you're together like this, it's a homecoming. 

Then he's moving, rolling his hips slowly, deliberately against you at first; you can hardly breathe for the sensation he sparks within your body. But it isn't long before he speeds his movements up. He grows frantic and rough, pushes one of your legs down into the mattress so that he can go deeper inside of you. He swallows each of your cries, keeping the noises he forces from you all for himself. He's selfish, you see, and he wants to keep your moans and shouts and pleas for more all to himself. There are other ways to show the world that you belong to each other; your noises are all for him.

You reach your climax both too soon and too slowly. You try to keep your eyes open, you want to see Loki when you reach your peak. But you're feeling too much. It's all too overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face into his neck because if you can't see him, you can at least try to mold yourself to him so that you never have to be apart.

Loki isn't far behind you. He murmurs desperate _I love you_ s and _my queen_ s and other endearment as he comes. You're too far gone to understand the words, but the sentiment comes through all the same when his hips stutter against yours and he spills into you.

Silence falls over the room in the aftermath. His forehead is pressed against yours, breath intermingling in the small space between your faces. 

Your fingers fumble with the collar's clasp. When it unlatches, it falls to the floor, forgotten. 

"Was I good enough for you, my love?" He falls to his side, maneuvering you until you're lying on your side facing him with his arms wrapped securely around you. One of your legs is propped up on his hip.

You trace his mouth with one finger, "You've certainly got a mouth on you, I'll tell you that."

He smirks and catches your finger with his teeth, nibbling just a little bit on the first knuckle. 

"But, yeah, I'd say you were more than good enough," you laugh. "Happy birthday, Lokes."

"Happy Chanukah," he responds. 


End file.
